Ex Animo (From the Heart)
by nelliesbones
Summary: In a world full of questions, happy endings are rarely written, but Fox Mulder and Dana Scully really, truly deserve the happiest of endings... Warm-hearted, M for a reason, following season 11 and completely ignoring MS4 and the aftermath. Now complete.
1. Like This

EX ANIMO (FROM THE HEART)

The X-Files

 _I feel time like a heartbeat, the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The luminous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal, threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth, but only in its passage..._

1\. Like This

It's funny, the things that you remember and the things you don't.

Scully remembered car rides.

He'd used to drag her all over the country in rental cars; rental cars that smelled either way too clean or like wet dog. Usually, he was driving, and most of the time, this wasn't even annoying her.

It wasn't because she couldn't reach the pedals. He knew damn well that she could.

One day, he'd stopped driving.

She was glad at first; glad that the endless forks in the road of her life didn't lead to creepytown and scaryville anymore.

Then she noticed that they didn't lead anywhere.

Didn't lead anywhere for a long time.

She'd missed it.

Her face pressed to the side window, eyes closed, Scully pondered car rides; pondered her hopes and dreams in the pocket universe of his car.

A sigh left her lips. Her head hurt.

The engine noise and Mulder's breathing were the only sounds in the otherwise silent car. She could feel his eyes on her every once in a while, could feel every turn of the road, every stop of the vehicle.

He was taking her home from the hospital. But, home... where was that exactly?

Scully thought about her house. It was still as clean as it had been the day she'd moved in. It never got messy. There was hardly ever one mug in the sink and never more than one. Sometimes, when she couldn't stand it anymore, she left a shirt on the floor just because.

She shifted in her seat, trying to find a position that didn't hurt. His gaze on her was almost palpable, but he didn't say a thing.

When the car finally stopped, Scully opened her eyes, blinking once, twice. Turning her head, furrowing her brow.

"Mulder?"

"Yes?"

The unremarkable house was glowing in the afternoon light, the porch looking as inviting as always.

"You were supposed to take me home."

"I know," he simply said while unfastening his seat belt.

This wasn't her home anymore... was it?

"But..."

"I'm not letting you alone, Scully."

And he hadn't.

He fixed soup for her. He even helped to wash her hair.

He didn't say a thing, but she noticed how much it cost him to see dried blood plastered to her skin once more.

Later, much later that night, Scully found herself in sheets that smelled like Mulder; that used to smell like her as well. The bedclothes looked deeply familiar, and Scully noticed that she'd bought them herself a long time ago.

She could hear him rummaging around in the living room, making himself a bed on the couch.

The floor was littered with socks and books, the shelves were in desperate need of a dusting.

It was messy and comforting and wonderful.

Dana Scully slept eight hours straight and awoke to the smell of coffee.

xxx

He kept her for three days, feeding her, talking to her, taking care of her. Being the sole object of Fox Mulder's focus was exhilarating, had always been, and Scully could feel his attention like sunshine on her skin.

The pull was back.

Scully found herself gravitating towards the little house, and more than often, they ended up having dinner and watching a movie at his place. She noticed that the dust bunnies were gone. The laundry piles had migrated to the utility room.

Her favorite beer moved back into the fridge, and so did vegetables.

Like back in the days, she fell asleep on the couch next to him, their feet resting on the table.

"Our home."

She didn't even notice the Freudian slip, but Mulder did.

And something inside of him cracked wide open.

Just like this.

To be continued...


	2. One Plus One

2\. One plus One

It's funny, the things that you remember and the things you don't.

Mulder remembered satin.

Long pajamas to keep her warm during dark winter hours. A violet gown that ended mid-thigh, keeping _him_ warm. He remembered holding her in his arms at night, nothing but satin separating them; he remembered the friction created by rough fingertips when his hands traveled down her body. He remembered taking off her flimsy nightwear, remembered how her skin had been even softer than any fabric created by mankind. (Or other kinds.)

So when she asked him to hold her, when she slipped into his welcoming arms, it was satin that he noticed first.

Dark satin. Cool satin. How long had she been standing next to his bed, willing him to wake up, hoping for him to notice her? How long had she pondered waking him?

It was uncertainty so unlike her, so unlike them.

How often had she asked him to hold her over the years? He'd kept track at first, hiding each memory in a safe place. But sometime between then and now, he'd lost count. Back in his greenhorn days, he'd harbored many a secret dream starring his partner. He'd never thought he could take her for granted one day. But it had happened.

An unremarkable house. Unremarkable days and nights. An unremarkable life.

She'd gone to the hospital for work. He'd stayed at home, browsing the Internet, searching for the truth. For years and years, his crusade had driven him. And she'd followed. To Oregon and Maine and Canada. To the Arctic and back. He'd never thought she would stop one day.

Until she did.

And days had turned into nights; summer into winter.

Satin.

The soft flow of satin against his naked skin made the hairs on his arms stand up. Mulder inhaled deeply, re-acquainting himself with the feel of her body snuggled up to his. He hadn't held her like this in a long time, had almost thought he might never again. She'd lost weight since he'd last had her in his bed, and Mulder vowed to take her to a fancy restaurant sometime soon. Leaning in, he brushed her hair with his nose, and her scent, so intimately familiar yet so new, called out to him.

"What's gonna happen?"

Her voice, soft and husky, was like a caress itself, as she bared her soul to him.

"Are we gonna spend time together?"

The joke about his wheelchair pushing hers didn't come out as funny as intended, and she wasn't in the mood for a joke anyways.

"Oh, I'll always be around, Scully. Offering bulletproof theories of genius that you fail to assail with your inadequate rationality."

Finally, a smile.

"And I'll always be around to prove you wrong."

"Promise."

"But that's not what I mean."

"What do you mean?"

 _Am I your one in seven b_ _illion? Would you still dig me out of the everlasting ice? Would we share snow globes if there was no water left?_

"What if you meet someone? What if you meet someone… younger who wants to have kids?"

"Oh, that's what you mean."

Scully held her breath, as she awaited his answer, her vulnerability almost palpable in the silent room.

"Scully... I've got a child. His name is William, after my father and after your father. He was brought into this world by the strongest and bravest woman I know."

Her hand found his in the moonlit room, fingers intertwining. He caressed her thumb with his and inhaled a shaken breath.

"Instead of a lifetime full of memories, I've only got fragments of him and a big fat hole right in my chest."

He tapped her sternum lightly.

"It matches yours, I suppose. But that's how it is. My path is linked with yours Scully. Will always be."

She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling deeply.

"Thank you," she finally whispered, and he moved even closer, placing a soft kiss right next to her ear. The gesture was so familiar that her chest filled with longing.

"Always, Scully. But... where's this coming from? A nut job flinging Dookie at you?"

"Mulder... let's not deny it. I _am_ old."

"You're 53. That hardly qualifies as old."

"I'm not 30 anymore."

He lifted one hand to caress her cheek, tucking an unruly strand of hair behind her ear while recalling her younger self. A smile bloomed on his face.

"You were cute at 30. Round cheeks. Rosy lips. And those shoulder pads! Aww..."

Finally, she rewarded him with a chuckle. His voice turned serious anew.

"Do you want to be 30 again?"

She shrugged in his arms.

"Not really. My partner back then was a pain in the ass. Oh, wait..."

He gasped dramatically.

"Ouch, that hurt!"

Her chuckles turned into full-fledged giggles and something warm and fuzzy spread out in his insides. He'd made her laugh. Mulder smiled, allowing his fingers to draw lazy patterns over her arms.

"Scully, you were cute at 30. But you're absolutely breathtaking today," he dared to whisper, and she went very still in his embrace.

"Mulder..."

She turned around in his arms, finally facing him. 57 years had left traces on him as well. Scully saw freckles and worry lines, wondering which ones she herself had put there. Lifting her hand, she traced his jaw with her fingertips. His skin was smooth and warm. Had he shaved before going to bed? Had he shaved for her? She had seen him growing old right beside her, but it had been a while since Scully had shared this kind of intimacy with Mulder.

She never stopped caring for him, but that's exactly why she'd had to stop watching his descent into the dark maze of conspiracies. He'd been lost, so utterly lost, and she hadn't been able to find him anymore. And before losing herself as well, she'd had to leave.

 _The stranglehold of her very existence._

He wasn't that man anymore. Nowadays, looking into his eyes wasn't like staring into an abyss – on the contrary. Studying him in the nondescript motel room, Scully found warmth in his eyes and devotion. Something inside of her moved.

With a deep breath, she pulled him closer, erasing the distance between them. He didn't hesitate to burrow his face in her neck, inhaling deeply. Her lips touched his brow like a butterfly's wing.

Nobody spoke, as the hands of time turned slowly, as the feel of her was imprinted into his arms anew, as the drum of his heartbeat reassured her that at least something was just right in this world.

Slowly, oh so slowly, her heart turned to his. And when his lips found hers, it was like coming home. Her mouth opened for him, letting him all the way in, and his tongue met hers in the most intimate way.

Kissing. Tasting. Exploring.

And... satin.

He could feel her heart thumping beneath a curtain of satin, could feel the heat radiating from her body.

His fingers found the hem of her shirt, lingering for a moment, giving her a choice. He could feel her sigh in his mouth, and then her small hand covered his bigger one, pulling it under her pajamas.

And... skin.

She had invited him in, and just like that very first time, Mulder couldn't believe his luck. His lips left her mouth, leaving a trail of kisses behind before nipping the soft skin of her neck. She gasped, arching her back.

"Yes..."

His hands began to roam, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Soon, buttons were in the way, and he undid them with nimble fingers. One... and a kiss. Two... his tongue on her skin. Three... her moan in the air between them. Four... heat rushing southwards. Five... her hands cupping his ass. Six... the garment fell open, revealing her to his eyes.

Mulder inhaled sharply.

"So beautiful," he murmured reverently, caressing her feminine curves with his gaze.

She smiled almost shyly.

"Well, it's nothing you don't know."

Using his knuckles, he drew a straight line from her throat to her navel.

"Yeah, but it's something I thought I'd never see again," he admitted.

Lowering his head to her chest, he kissed one breast, then the other, greeting them like long-lost friends.

"Hi girls," he whispered, making her smile.

"I've missed you."

The sentiment was directed at her chest, but she heard him, heard him and tucked it away.

"Oh, Mulder... "

 _I never wanted to hurt you._

Raising his head, he found her eyes, reassuring her.

"Don't worry."

One more smile, and he lowered his head anew, sucking her nipple into his mouth without further delay. She hissed, and her head fell back. The blood in her veins was replaced by longing; longing so sharp and acute that she thought she might faint.

Slipping her hand under his shirt, she marked the skin of his back with her fingernails. A groan rumbled deep in his throat, but he didn't stop sucking and caressing her breasts.

Turning them around happened in the blink of an eye and then she was pressed into the pillows by his solid weight. Crossing her arms behind his back, she pulled him even closer to her. Her legs opened on their own volition, and he almost cried at the perfect space her thighs made for his hips. He could feel her so intimately through the barrier of satin, and it was quite embarrassing how hard he was just by touching her.

Satin was overrated; he needed to feel her.

Clothes were shed in a haste, and soon she was naked in front of him, wearing nothing but that golden cross on a chain. Alabaster and ginger, his past and future.

Cupping her face, he sought her bright blue eyes.

"Nobody else, Scully. Never. I never met someone else, Scully, never could and never will."

She nodded fiercely, feeling tears pooling behind her eyes.

Comfort, she'd turned to him for comfort. Maybe comfort sex even. Scully realized too late that, with Mulder, it could never be just comfort.

"Please, come," she urged him on with her hands and lips, opening herself to him.

And, shifting on his knees, he came to her.

She held her breath, as he first touched her, and he found her hands, as he crossed that last barrier, finally pushing into her.

She was 36 and 53 and everything else in between. Age didn't matter anymore, as something came full circle in the St. Rachel Motel in Henrico County, Virginia. She'd spent her entire youth falling in love with this man. She'd given him everything, everything but her sanity.

"Oh my God..."

She squeezed her eyes shut, as she was hit by an onslaught of sensations; as the memories of decades of loving him came rushing back to her.

The thing about Mulder was... he completed her. He made her whole in a way nobody and nothing else ever could.

Lifting heavy lids, she took him all him. His eyes, dark in passion. A sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. He was restraining himself, holding back for her sake, she realized.

"You okay?" he managed to ask, and she clutched him tightly, pulling him even deeper into her body.

"Yes, yes, yes. Please, move."

His mouth crashed into hers, as he finally started to move. In and out he went, without finesse. His movements weren't graceful, but raw; raw with hunger and need and unspoken emotions. He was scared if she could handle it, but she met him thrust for thrust; halfway as always.

"How... how can you even think I could meet someone else?" he managed to complain between kisses, and she wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.

"I'm so sorry," she uttered, and his hands were everywhere.

"You're my _one_ , Scully," he whispered, and the oh-so-familiar endearment was almost too much to bear.

 _My constant. My touchstone._

A gasp, a cry, and then she was right there, right there. Tumbling into blissful oblivion with nothing but his body grounding her. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, and she was so, so beautiful that it almost hurt to watch her. Her body hugged him so intimately, inviting him to share the bliss, but he had to wait, had to see her. Finally, her tremors subsided.

"Scully... _Dana_ , look at me," he demanded in a strangled voice.

Her eyes flew open, boring into his.

One more push and he lost it, instantly, allowing her to gaze all the way down to his soul.

xxx

"Scully?"

"Hmm?"

"I was right. You've still got it going on."

A lazy smile.

"Scully?"

"Hmm?"

"A lot of scoot in your boot."

"Sleep, Mulder."

Her eyes were already closed, but he couldn't stop looking at her. Tousled hair, rosy cheeks, milky-white skin – she was glowing. Mulder smiled, inching closer and placing a kiss on her naked shoulder.

"Sweet dreams, Scully," he whispered.

A grunt was his only answer, as she was drifting off to sleep.

He covered her shoulder with the blanket and lay down beside her. His body was utterly satiated, but his mind wouldn't rest.

It still bothered him that she'd thought about him meeting someone else. For the first time, it dawned on him that she might consider dating other men. Mulder knew that he had to do something about that and soon.

Turning his head, he watched her sleep for a moment.

"I've missed you," he confessed, but her even breathing was his only answer.

"I promise to be around, Scully. More than around."

Between his feet, he could feel a tangle of satin. Her pajama shirt? Or bottoms? He didn't know and didn't care, but something about her messy clothes in his bed made him ridiculously happy.

He thought about lazy Sundays, trips to Target, breakfast for two and the scent of vanilla lingering in the bathroom. His heart let go of a sigh.

"I really truly missed you, Scully. A lot."

Holy macaroni, they'd had sex!

"I've missed that as well, Scully. Being so close to you. Coming apart under your hands."

His body was tingling in pleasant ways, as he remembered the passion, the nearness.

"I should probably tell you all this while you're awake, huh?"

His bladder chose that moment to make itself felt, and, after one more glance at the sleeping beauty next to him, Mulder disentangled himself from his partner and got up.

Tapping into the bathroom. Rinsing out his mouth. Finding his evil twin staring back at him.

And everything went to hell in a handbasket.

xxx

There's no romance in the paranormal. Maybe that's why they had taken so long to find into each other's arms in the first place. In a world full of questions, happy endings are rarely written, and, as always, closing their case left a lot of inexplicable fog behind.

Only a few hours had passed since they'd left their shared bed – albeit a few of the strangest hours.

Mulder was tired, tired and something.

"So... I was thinking maybe we could get a couple hours in before checkout time?"

She could hardly hide a smirk, as she arched her eyebrows.

He mustered the most innocent expression possible.

"I'm just talking about getting some shut-eye."

"I'm glad to hear that Mulder."

Was she?

"Yeah... I guess I should hit the hay."

"Okay."

"Yeah."

He was stalling and he knew it. Hell, he even knew that she knew it. Deciding that there wasn't much to loose, but a lot to gain, he risked one more step.

"But if you need anything, you, uh, just call me."

Tilting her head, she regarded him with soulful eyes.

"I can't imagine that I will."

Nodding, he finally accepted defeat, retreating gracefully.

Watching him close their connecting door, she thought about his dark shirt and the amount of chest it had revealed. Something stirred in her belly, and she rolled her eyes.

"But then again, it's not out of the realm of extreme possibility."

Biting her lower lip, she sashayed towards the door, turning the knob.

Her heart dropped to her stomach, as she found Mulder leaning against the door frame, waiting for her.

"Just so you know, I gave you three minutes," he deadpanned before reaching out.

His kiss found her instantly, as she crashed into him. She was alive within seconds, every nerve ending in her body on high alert. Scooping her up happened without thinking, and soon she was in his bed once again, splayed out on tangled sheets.

And it was fun.

While their first encounter after such a long time had been raw with need and memories, this one was fun, so much fun. She giggled madly, as he blew raspberries all over her belly; he laughed out loud every time she rediscovered one of his ticklish spots.

They were two people who knew each other so well, two souls intertwining.

He let go of a blissful sigh, as she straddled him, pure joy on his face.

Then they were joined.

And it was heaven.

One plus one.

To be continued...


	3. The Lost Art

3\. The Lost Art

"You're ready?"

His question tore her out of her reverie, and Scully abandoned the neatly packed suitcase to face her partner. Once again, he was leaning against the doorframe.

Once again, her stomach clenched at the sight of him.

"I'm all packed," she finally said, avoiding the word he'd used. _Ready_...

Playing with the sleeve of her blouse, she took a few steps in his direction. Shivers ran down her spine, as her body recognized its mate.

They'd had sex. Twice!

Taking a deep breath, she finally lifted her face, searching his eyes.

"Mulder, stranger things have happened in this town than a set of telepathic twins playing hangman."

Her voice trailed off, and he gave her a goofy grin.

"Don't forget about the schizophrenia."

"You know what I mean."

Turning serious, he found her hand, taking it into hers.

"I know. But... is it really that strange? The two of us?"

Her eyes grew wide, as she whispered: "What have we done?"

"You've asked me to hold you. That's what I've done. Well, and then some," he admitted.

"Mulder, you've rocked my world. Twice."

She sounded so worried that he couldn't suppress a chuckle.

"Ditto, Scully."

"Can we just have sex? I mean... without repercussions?"

"Is that what you want?"

"I... I don't know."

"Come here."

Letting go of a sigh, he pulled her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. Her hand came around his back, cupping his nape.

Finally, he spoke.

"I've been holding you like this for half of my life."

"I know," she admitted softly.

"It feels like forever. This, Scully... you and me, it'll never be casual. It will always mean something. We've shared too much."

"But how much more is there to share?"

They've reached the crossroads.

"Dinner. What about dinner? Have dinner with me."

She hummed, nuzzling his chest with her cheek.

"We're sharing dinner a few times a week."

"Yeah, I like that. But that's not what I mean. Let's go to a restaurant. Something fancy."

"Like a date?"

"Yes, why not. We've faced the end of the world together, but we've never dated. It can't be worse than being abducted by an UFO," he joked.

Lifting her head, she looked at him, pondering her choices. He was warm in her arms, solid and real, and he surrounded her with the most irresistible Mulder scent.

"Alright, why not," she finally agreed, and a bright grin adorned his face.

Without thinking, he lowered his head, about to kiss her. It seemed so natural, so logical, and only seconds before it was too late, his brain chimed in, reminding him that kissing her was not appropriate.

Her cheeks were burning hot, as he dared to look at her.

"Crap, Scully, I'm sorry," he said, letting go of her immediately.

She shook her head in a nondescript way, already missing his warmth, but she didn't say a thing. The moment stretched, until he cleared his throat.

"We should go. You're ready?"

She nodded, grabbing her bag. Lost for words, she climbed into the car. Scully could still feel the heat in her cheeks. Had he not stopped, she'd have kissed him back. It hadn't even occurred to her that she shouldn't...

xxx

"Mulder, it's me. Where have you been? I've been trying your cell all day."

"I was out squatching."

"What?"

"Bigfoot hunt. Had my phone turned off."

"Did you have any luck?"

"No, but that's not really the point. I just had to get away from the madness for a little while. It seems this past year all I've done is watch the news and worry that the country's gone insane. I had to get out to nature. You know, where it's simple and uncomplicated, where it's just you and the elements. And possibly a cryptozoological, simian-like, hairy humanoid with enormous feet."

"I think you just like saying 'squatching'. We still on for dinner tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then. Hey, Scully, did I ever tell you about the time I found a Sasquatch footprint in the mud?"

"Yeah, you did."

"It was 35 years ago, about."

"Mulder, I've heard this before."

"On the banks of the mighty Mogoagogo River.

"Mulder, you already told me. I got to go, got to go, Mulder."

"In beautiful British Columbia. Scully? Scully?"

xxx

Their date didn't happen. By the time she made it to the unremarkable house the following day, he'd become obsessed with yet another thing. Surprisingly, this time it wasn't an UFO conspiracy but a lost Twilight Zone episode. She found him knee-deep in ancient VHS tapes and could only shake her head.

If only he wasn't so cute.

As she went home later that night, a pathetic excuse of dinner in a doggy bag, Scully tried to analyze her feelings. Part of her was disappointed, another part relieved.

Mulder was Mulder, would always be. Passionate, spontaneous, obsessive. He went Bigfoot hunting when the world became too crazy and didn't even see the irony – and she liked that about him, liked it a lot.

But was she ready to date it?

Was she ready to commit to it once again?

She welcomed the time-out. The memories of their night in the St. Rachel Motel in Henrico County were still so vivid and overwhelming at times. She simply didn't know what to do about this. The magnitude of their feelings was scarier than your average x-files and she didn't have the heart to reopen that folder.

Then that Reggie guy popped up – and suddenly Mulder didn't seem so crazy anymore. Manipulated memories and the answer to everything – was there a grain of truth somewhere in there or was it just smoke and ashes?

Whatever it was, amongst memories and myths, Scully found something; something besides Goop-O A-B-C in the shape of an enormous foot. She found gratitude, gratitude for the past as it's been.

"I wanna remember how it was. I wanna remember how it all was," she said, lowering her spoon.

She was looking so young and carefree that his heart skipped a beat.

"Everything?" he asked, and she nodded fiercely.

"Every liver-consuming mutant and wannabe-vampire out there."

His goofy grin matched hers, and he was in awe, so in awe of her. He nudged her shoulder with his own.

"So, what about FOOT-O-GOOP over here?"

She raised her palms.

"Dig in, Mulder. It would be a shame to waste it."

Mulder watched the wobbly mass, in equal measure fascinated and disgusted. Finally, he grimaced, guiding a spoonful to his mouth. Swallowing. Tasting. Scully was watching him expectantly.

"So?"

"Well... aside from the fact that this stuff is probably 40 years old?"

"Yes, aside from that."

"It's... uh, interesting," he finally decided, and wrinkles appeared all over her brow.

"Interesting? What do you mean? Mulder, this is one of my fondest childhood memories."

"Yes, and thank you for sharing that with me. I'm taking another mouthful. Look. I'm _that_ grateful."

Opening his mouth, he presented his red tongue to her, and she had to laugh.

"It tastes like summer in Quonochontaug, Scully. Hmm, cherries."

She had to laugh even harder, and he enjoyed the sound of joy in his home.

"Such a shame you can't taste it. It's like an explosion on your palate."

Her giggles subsides, as she gave him a meaningful look. She liked him like this, playful mood, casual clothes, his mind at ease. And she really wanted to taste that jelly without, yeah, actually tasting it.

Not thinking twice, she curled her hand around his nape, pulling him close.

"Scully," he gasped.

"Hold still," she murmured, and then her mouth was on his, ever so gently. He could feel her tongue running along his bottom lip, slipping into his mouth. Her sigh vibrated against his lips, as she found the flavor of GOOP-O A-B-C in his kiss.

"Yeah, that's it," she murmured between kisses, and he had no idea what to do about this, but he had to kiss her back.

Had to tunnel his hands in her hair.

Had to bite her lip ever so tenderly.

Leaning back into the cushions, he pulled her along, and she followed willingly, climbing into his lap. Her husky laughter filled his heart, as she settled down on him, and he looked at her reverently. In the dim lit room, her hair shone like fire and long lashes cast shadows on rosy cheeks.

"Are you sure, Scully? One time is a slip, but two times?"

"Well, technically it's been twice already, Mulder, so that ship's sailed."

"You know what I mean."

"Well, shut up," she said, sucking his earlobe between her teeth, and he gasped audibly, rocking into her from below.

"But, Scully," he whined, "I just wanna do the right thing."

Circling her hips, she pressed down onto his lap, effectively rendering him speechless for a while. She could feel a prominent bulge growing in his pants, right between her legs, and a sweet kind of ache spread out in her belly.

Unbelievably, Mulder chose that moment to protest another time. Lifting his hands, he captured her hips, restricting her mobility.

"Scully, you are so important to me. I don't wanna mess this up. I feel as if I've gotten a second chance to come to know you."

Shaking her head in exasperation, Scully looked at him.

"Mulder, I can't believe that I have to talk you into having sex with me."

"In Henrico County, we decided to have dinner."

"I tried to date you, but it didn't work," she deadpanned.

His face fell in misery.

"You're right. I'm so sorry."

"Mulder, I'm not complaining. Can you just kiss me?" She directed her best bedroom voice at him. "You can kiss me everywhere."

Between her legs, she could feel him twitching. A groan left his chest.

"Mulder, don't be crazy."

His eyebrow arched up.

"Well, _crazier_. I want this, you want this. What's the problem?"

Gnawing his bottom lip, he tried to make up his mind. She was right, but then again, she was right most of the time. He wanted her. He'd wanted her since she'd knocked at his door in underwear during that very first case. And, given their history, his current behavior was kind of crazy.

Mulder couldn't really explain his reluctance; he simply knew that she was special and that he didn't want to ruin it. If the frustration written all over her face was any indicator, though, he was gloriously ruining it just right now.

"Scully, I want more than just sex," he finally admitted, and she closed her eyes, exhaling audibly.

"Look at me. Don't you see that you already have it?"

And he looked at her.

He saw her hair, thanks to his hands a tangled mess of red silk. He saw her lips, found them plump and red from their kisses and his evening stubble.

He saw the gray shirt, noticed that it hugged her body in all the right places. Mulder knew that the shirt had been upstairs in a drawer, a drawer full of things she might need if they came here straight after work. There was a drawer full of her things! And she was here, right in his home, making jelly in a Bigfoot mold.

"Yeah..."

His smile was so contagious that she had to respond. And then he realized that she was still in his lap.

"Hi," he whispered, brushing her hair out of her face.

Closing her eyes, she sighed. "Thank God. I was just seconds away from handcuffing you."

"Don't give me ideas," he murmured, but then, finally, he started kissing her in earnest. His hands cupped her buttocks, holding her firmly in place, and the ache in her belly was right back.

"Mulder," she gasped, rubbing herself against him, and he groaned.

"You're in the mood for hard and fast or slow and sweet?"

She replied without thinking. "Let's start with hard and fast."

His teeth sunk into her shoulder, and she cried out.

"Yes..."

xxx

She got hard, and she got fast.

His body hard as steel beneath her; his heartbeat so very fast, as she pressed her ear to his chest. It didn't take long for him to undress her, and she was equally eager to remove his clothes. Her body wept in relief, as she sunk down on his impressive length, and something in her chest moved as the profound connection between them flared to life.

And he thrust into her.

"Scully?" he panted, and she nipped his shoulder in encouragement. "Later tonight, when it's sweet and slow... I'm gonna lick you, I'm gonna suck you. And then, in my arms, my body spooning yours, you'll come."

Her body was flooded with sensations, her mind a blurry maze. Lowering his hand, he caressed the triangle of short curls, before circling her bundle of nerves with his fingertip.

"I'm gonna lick you right here," he promised, and she was lost. Panting for breath, she was taken away by pleasure, her body shaking in his arms. With a groan, he pulled her close, so very close to his chest, pushing into her for all he was worth. She was wet and warm, squeezing him in exquisite agony. Before she'd had a chance to recover from her orgasm, he was there as well, following her into oblivion.

xxx

The wee hours of the morning found them in their bed, the bed they used to share. It was slow and it was sweet, as he was rocking into her from behind so very gently. His hand palming her breast, his lips loving her neck, he was taking her; taking just like she was giving. It was the embrace of lovers who knew each other so well, and the moonlight was their only witness, as he lost himself inside of her, as she was caught in the all-encompassing safety of his embrace.

They fell asleep in a tangle of limbs and lips.

But when dawn broke, she was gone.

For there are things way scarier than ghouls and ghosts and monsters.

To be continued...

 _Come on, you know it'll end on a happy note._


	4. Oculi

4\. Oculi

I can see her, them.

Now that we've breathed the same air, now that I've heard her voice, touched her, it's easier to find her in the fog. I remember her scent; she was smelling like life and warmth when everything else was just sterile and dead.

She could reach me even though my whole life was falling apart.

I've told her that she seems like a nice person and I'm sure that she is.

She was kind to a stranger on the road and the things she said to me, to _William_... It wasn't inadequate at all. She sounded genuinely heartbroken and sorry.

She was oozing grief and despair, they both were. Mulder... Is he my real father? Despite their sorrow, a wave of love flooded that morgue, as he was holding her.

It was nice to feel their love, if only for a brief moment.

I wish I could have given her more; more than the words of a stranger.

 _Don't give up on the bigger picture._

 _I wish I could know you better._

But she knows. I know that she knows. For I can see them.

I can see them in the car, crossing miles and miles on poorly lit country roads.

I can see them on an old couch. She's fallen asleep and he covers her with a checkered blanket.

I can see them in a nice restaurant, a bottle of wine on the table. They're smiling.

I can see them in a cramped basement office, a big fat poster on the wall.

 _I want to believe._

That makes me smile. I think I like their style.

I can feel her as well. She's calling me, whispering silent words of comfort.

I like that she's out there, thinking of me.

xxx

They left Norfolk, Virginia in a daze.

He was driving, she wasn't caring.

Her son. She'd met her son. Her mind was a whirlwind and her heart, oh her heart...

For the first time in seventeen years, it didn't feel quite so broken.

William knew. He finally knew. Knew her reasons, part of her truth. Knew that he'd been loved; loved and missed so dearly.

And she knew as well. He'd made sure to tell her, twice.

That he didn't hate her.

It was hard to see the chubby baby she'd given up in the dark-haired young man. But she'd noticed things.

A telescope in his room. Rocket models. A Sasquatch snow globe.

He was their son. And he was alive.

She closed her eyes, as relief and gratitude filled her. Next to her, she could sense Mulder's apprehension. Reaching out to him, she placed her palm on his thigh, squeezing gently.

"I'm fine, Mulder. Overwhelmed. Shocked. But fine. Really fine."

Turning her head, she looked at him with clear blue eyes.

"But how are you?"

He pouted, licking his lips.

"It's ridiculous, Scully, but I think he reached out to me as well. That can of soda on his desk? I think he left that for me to knock over. I have no proof, but it's something I would have done."

She smiled, as his hand was covering hers.

"Our son is a middle-aged Asian man," Mulder finally said, and Scully couldn't stop that grin on her face.

"He got that from you."

With every mile that flew by, she was able to put another piece of guilt into a box. Upon crossing the Potomac, she was finally able to forgive herself. She'll never know if she'd done the bravest or stupidest thing back then, but there was no point in knowing it anyways.

And there was a gift that William had given her.

 _Don't give up on the bigger picture_.

Turning her head, she studied the man next to her.

"Thank you," she finally said, and he cast a wondrous glance at her.

"What for?"

"For always taking care of me. For giving me hugs, saying the right things, being on my side. You keep me strong, Mulder. I owe you so much."

His voice was hoarse, when he spoke.

"You don't owe me anything, Scully. Hell, I can't even show up to our dates."

"Well, it's the bigger picture that counts. And in the bigger picture, you're always there. I... I might be scared, but I'm getting there. I'm so sorry that I left the other night," she added on a whisper.

He remembered waking up with nothing but her scent on the pillow.

"You missed a kick-ass breakfast, Scully."

A joke for her benefit; a smile for his.

"I just wonder... why did you leave?"

" _Our_ bed, Mulder. You and me in our bed. Making... making love after I'd just told you that it was more than sex..."

"You don't trust me."

"I do," she exclaimed. "With my life!"

"But not with your heart."

She faltered, and he nodded.

"8 o'clock tomorrow. I'm picking you up. Wear a dress."

"Mulder..."

"It's a date, Scully."

xxx

7.45 pm found her in front of her hallway mirror, wearing – indeed – a dress. It was a simple black thing with a turtleneck, ending right above her knee and hugging her body like a second skin. It was modest but sexy.

Slipping into her shoes, she gave "Date Dana" a scrutinizing look. She liked her legs. They were still as toned as 20 years ago. As a matter of fact, she liked her whole body. It was feminine yet strong; the body of a survivor. Plus, Scully happened to know that Mulder _loved_ her body. A smile played around her lips, lighting up her face. She saw it in the reflection, noticed its beauty.

For the hundredth time, a sense of doubt washed over her. Was is ridiculous to date someone she'd loved – in one way or another – for half of her life? And would he even show up?

Screw the bigger picture, if he was standing her up once again, there'd be consequences. After all, she was wearing a dress.

The doorbell chose that moment to interrupt her musings, and she jumped. Taking a deep breath, Scully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Showtime," she murmured, opening the door.

The first thing she noticed, was his leather jacket. A bouquet of yellow roses followed shortly after. Tilting her head, she sought his gaze.

"Flowers?"

"Hi," he breathed, leaning in and brushing her cheek with his lips. "You must be Dana, Walter's coworker. It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Fox. Fox Mulder."

She gave him a puzzled look, but excitement shot through her veins.

"Fox?"

He shrugged apologetically, pushing the flowers into her hands.

"Oh, right. Let me find a vase. They're beautiful, thank you."

She vanished into the direction of the kitchen, and he entered the hallway, his gaze wandering around her space. It was roomy and posh, this new house of hers. He'd rarely ever been here, and when she returned from flower duty, Mulder had trouble meeting her eyes.

Clearing his throat, he tried a compliment.

"You've got a nice home."

Sensing a honest hunch of pain, she touched his arm.

"You know, this is just a place full of things. It's not home."

"Dana," he whispered, and something inside of her moved, as his voice touched her.

Her eyes closed on their own volition, and she could feel his fingertips grazing her cheek in the softest caress. She could smell him as well, the heady Mulder scent hidden beneath leather and after-shave. Then, the moment was gone.

"You like Italian?" he asked, and she blinked once, twice before catching up. A date. Food. Italian. Right.

"Italian sounds lovely."

xxx

Thirty minutes later, Scully realized that "lovely" didn't even begin to cover it. Somehow, Mulder had managed to make reservations in one of the best Italian restaurants in Downtown DC.

She watched in amazement, how he exchanged pleasantries with the waiter; noticed how his hand lingered on the small of her back, as he guided her to their table. She saw how the tip of his tongue darted out, as he studied the wine menu, and when he finally filled her glass for her, Scully realized that she was being wooed by Mulder.

"I recommend the lobster risotto. Do you like seafood, Dana?"

Putting the menu aside, he focused solely on her, and warmth that had nothing to do with the wine spread out in her belly.

She gave him a heartfelt smile.

"I like food."

"Something in particular?"

She shrugged.

"Actually, I'm easy to please. The risotto sounds fantastic. What about you?"

"Pappardelle with wild boar ragout and chestnuts."

"You're catching me by surprise... _Fox_."

He gave her a lopsided grin.

"Don't worry, I can survive on sandwiches and sunflower seeds any time. But the food here looks amazing."

"It should, 'Tosca' is one of the best restaurants in town. How did you find this place?"

"Yelp."

She burst out laughing, and he wanted to take her glee and stuff it into his pockets for hard times. His hand found hers on the table, squeezing tenderly.

"By the way, you look beautiful tonight."

The joy on her face lingered, softened.

"Thank you."

"Dana... I'm going out on a limb here, but why's a woman like you living alone? Walter didn't tell me much about your personal life."

She twisted the stem of the wine glass between her fingers.

"Well, honestly, there isn't much to tell. I had someone, but... it was complicated. At one point, he stopped seeing me. I was living with a shell and I couldn't bear it anymore."

He swallowed hard, as her truth hit close to home.

"What about you? No Mrs. Mulder?"

Taking a sip of wine, he shook his head.

"She left. Actually, what you said rang a bell with me. I was occupied. Truth be told, I was in a dark place for quite a while. I can't blame her for going. But... I'm better now. Much better. I'm still easily distracted, but I recognize a rose when I see one."

Silence followed his words, as both of them pondered the things that had been said and the things still unspoken. Glances were shared. He noticed the soft curl in her hair; she admired his handsome face.

Finally, he reached into his pocket, unfolding a printed paper.

"To avoid moments of awkward silence, I've found those 15 great first date questions online. Are you game?"

Another grin.

"Nothing kinky, I hope?"

He held up his palms.

"I swear, I'm a reputable 57-year-old man."

"Alright, give me that paper." She browsed the questions. "Yes, that's a good one. 'What is your biggest goal in life right now?'"

"You're not hitting around the bush. Well... I've always wanted to save the world. Uncover the truth. Know all the answers. However... The most important thing in my life right now is much more personal. You want to hear more?"

His eyes were burning her with their intensity, and she shook her head ever so slowly. Reaching over the table, he took the paper from her.

"Most interesting place you've been to in the past two years?"

"Shawan, Oregon," she answered without hesitation, and he erupted in laughter, thinking about a horned lizard turned human.

"The local motel was one of a kind," she added, and he watched her fondly.

"By the way, Fox, I think Walter never mentioned you. How do you know him?"

"Oh, we're sauna buddies."

And she was lost in giggles.

xxx

Their food arrived, looking delicious, tasting even better. She got a second glass of wine, he switched to water after that first one. They kept on playing their game, and between Fox and Dana, fragments of the truth were revealed. But most of all, they had a good time.

He stole bits of her risotto and fed her some pappardelle. Afterwards, they shared tiramisu, and watching her make love to that dessert was almost too much to bear. Soon, way too soon their meal came to an end.

Upon seeing the numbers on their check, Mulder had to swallow, but it was worth every penny. She was.

The crisp night air greeted them, when they left the restaurant, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders without thinking. Pulling her close, he placed a kiss on her temple.

"Thank you for tonight, Scully. Thanks for humoring me and being my date. I had a lot of fun."

Leaning her head on his shoulder, she tried to hug him while walking.

"My pleasure, Mulder. Thanks for showing up."

He grabbed his chest dramatically.

"Ouch, that hurt."

She giggled once more.

"Saturday, 10 am," he announced. "I'm picking you up. Dress warmly."

She opened her mouth, but he covered it with his fingertip before she had a chance to speak.

"And I _will_ show up."

"Are you trying to impress me?"

"Is it working?"

Her arm snaked around his waist, pulling him even closer.

"It might be," she admitted, and his chest swelled with pride.

xxx

I can see them. It's dark outside, but the streets are buzzing with life. They're walking arm in arm, smiling and laughing.

Happiness.

I can see hope and happiness.

To be continued...


	5. Beyond Friendship

5\. Beyond Friendship

He _did_ pick her up the following Saturday – sunglasses perched on his nose, a smile firmly in place, a paper cup in his hand. Weekend Mulder, she thought, taking stock of his blue jeans, his tousled hair and the well-worn green jacket. She could smell toothpaste and coffee, as he leaned in to peck her cheek.

"Hi," he murmured close to her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

As always these days, he lingered a tad longer than necessary.

"Good morning, Mulder."

He outstretched his hand, offering the paper cup to her.

"Coffee?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Are you ready?"

She raised her shoulders quizzically. "Since I have no idea where we're going..."

Lifting his sunglasses, he regarded her from head to toe.

"Hmm, let's see. Boots, jeans, sweater, hoodie, scarf. Yeah, you should be fine. And you look great, by the way."

"You know me, Mulder. I dress to impress."

He chuckled, and his hand found its place on the small of her back, as he walked her to the car.

"We'll be driving for about an hour. Make yourself comfortable."

Her eyebrows arched up.

"An hour? Where are we going?"

"To the beach, Scully."

"But... it's winter!"

He grimaced and slapped his face.

"Oh crap, I forgot to check the calendar. Christmas and New Year should have been a clue."

A silent pout was his answer, and he nudged her shoulder with his.

"Relax. You don't have to wear a bikini. Although... I did pack the red speedos."

Finally, she had to smile.

"You're a very strange man, Fox Mulder."

"And you like that about me."

Fair enough, she mused while climbing into his car. Fair enough.

xxx

Weekend Scully, he thought, casting a glance at her profile every few miles.

Her long hair was up in a ponytail, a rare sight. It reminded him of early mornings, when she'd gone for a run on the farm roads surrounding the unremarkable house. It reminded him of lazy evenings as well, Scully relaxing in a bubble bath, her hair all the way up.

She never wore a ponytail to work. This was a private do.

"I like your hair," he finally said, and even though she lowered her head, he caught her blush.

"Mulder..."

Her voice was low, his response equally soft.

"What's biting you?"

"This is so unlike you."

He chuckled.

"What exactly? Dragging you across the country?"

A smile curved up her lips.

"No, that's familiar." Her face fell. "Oh God, please don't tell me there are monsters at the end of our trip."

"Nope, no monsters."

"Crop circles?"

"At the beach?"

"UFO wreck in the shore, then?"

"No UFOs whatsoever."

"Crabs behaving in a strange manner?"

"Now you're insulting me."

"Sorry."

"It's just you and me. Nothing spooky."

She took a sip of her coffee. It was perfect, of course it was. He knew how she liked her coffee; he knew how she liked a lot of her things.

"So... just a trip to the beach? Another date?"

He wiggled his head.

"Well... See that bag next to your feet? Open it."

Curiosity guided her hands and she discovered a wooden box in said bag.

"A box? What's in it?"

"... asks the federal investigator."

Scully rolled her eyes and opened the lid to peek inside.

"Pieces of paper?"

The man next to her took a deep breath.

"Truth be told, I don't know how to convey this without sounding totally uncool, but... this is my box full of regrets. I thought we could talk about it, burn it, give it to the ocean, I don't know. You said you want to remember how it all was, but maybe we can let go of a few things. What... what do you think?"

Fingering the notes, she caught bits and pieces of his handwriting.

 _Donnie Pfaster._

 _Being too late at Skyland Mountain._

 _The bee._

 _Not washing the dishes more often._

 _Choosing monsters over you._

 _Letting you alone after our son's birth._

 _Dying on you._

 _Leaving my dirty underwear on the floor._

 _ _Eddie Van Blundht.__

 _Letting you walk out on me._

"Oh, Mulder..."

Her heart in her throat, she reached out to him, threading her fingers through his. She was looking at him with big blue eyes, and in them, he could see everything that's ever been. Swallowing hard, he squeezed her hand, trying a smile.

"Overly sentimental?"

Lost for words, she shook her head. Eventually, a mischievous grin broke out on her face.

"I just wonder about the order. What's worse... Duane Berry, the bee or scattering dirty mugs and plates all over our house?"

"Well, you probably don't expect this, but... the dishes. I could have changed that one easily. The rest was way more complicated."

Shaking her head in wonder, she took another sip of coffee.

"You never fail to amaze me."

"You know, Scully, before we arrive at Chesapeake Beach, we could stop for coffee and pancakes. There's a nice little place in a town called Friendship. What do you think... a last break in Friendship?"

There was an amused twinkle in his eyes, as he turned his head to look at her. She smirked.

"Wow, that's subtle, Mulder."

xxx

They stopped in Friendship, drinking more coffee, sharing pancakes and fruit salad. Afterwards, it was just a ten-minute-drive to Chesapeake Beach, a quick walk through the green woods of Maryland, and then the churning ocean was right in front of them.

The sky was gray, the air cold and tangy. Wind was tugging at her hair, freeing some strands from the ponytail, and Mulder couldn't turn his eyes from her. He didn't know if it was the ocean or the simple fact that it was Saturday, but she looked ten years younger and so carefree.

It didn't even cross his mind that he himself could be the reason.

Grabbing his arm to steady herself on the sandy ground, Scully looked up at him.

"It might be too windy to burn the paper slips."

Mulder patted his shoulder bag.

"I'm well prepared."

Stopping in the middle of the beach, he looked around and finally nodded.

"You wanna take a seat?"

"Mulder, it's lovely here, but it's still February."

"Ye of little faith."

Opening his bag, he produced a blanket and handed it to her. She wrapped it around her body and sat down in the sand.

"So?"

"Well, I suppose this could work for a while."

Mulder busied himself with his bag, retrieving a jar and matches, giving them to her. The wooden box was next, and she cradled it carefully in her lap. Finally, he plopped down close to her, looking at her with expectant eyes.

"Here we are," he finally said. "Scully, we don't have to talk about each and every slip of paper. I imagine you're not too keen to relive the bad memories while the sea breeze is frosting your face."

She smiled beside him.

"Well, this is important to you."

"I think it might be important for both of us. So... obviously I regret dragging you into the whole mess in the first place. The kidnappings, the abduction, your sister. Everything's that been taken..."

The smile on her face vanished.

"Mulder, we've already established that those were my choices. Yes, some outcomes are regretful, terrible even, but I don't feel contrite about our work. Our life," she added on a whisper.

He nodded fiercely.

"I know, and I promise to do my best to let it go. After all, that's why we're here Scully. Also, I'm sorry that I was such a piece of shit to live with. I failed you long before you walked out on me. I think I never understood how you could love me so unconditionally when I had so little to offer in return."

Looking down into her lap, she shook her head.

"Where to start?" she finally murmured, before turning to him.

"Mulder, you're right, but you couldn't be more wrong."

Her hand came out of the cocoon of her blanket, finding its place on his chest. She couldn't feel his heartbeat beneath many layers of clothing, but she knew it was there nonetheless.

"You've got such a big heart, Mulder, and when you love, you pour your whole existence into it. Being loved by you is... _was_ exhilarating and fulfilling. Yet... you locked me out. You were broken and I couldn't fix you. How can you wash the dishes and fold your laundry when everything inside of you is messy and dirty? I get it, Mulder, I really do. You know, I was broken as well. But you never noticed it. By hiding your pain from me, you failed to see that I was hurting in the exact same spots."

Her hand was still on his chest, and he covered it with his own.

"Scully..."

"I regret walking out on us, Mulder. But I had no choice."

"What about now? Do you still feel that way?"

"I'm better, much better. And I miss you. Thinking about you meeting someone else is hurtful," she admitted, and he squeezed her hand even harder.

"Where does that even come from? You know, it's not as if there's a waiting line. I'm not such a star prize."

"I know, but you're _my_ star prize," she murmured stubbornly, and he laughed out.

"You know what? Let's burn it."

And that's what they did. Together, they put the paper slips into the jar. He lit a match and soon little flames were flickering in the glass, eating up every letter of regret. When nothing but ashes remained, she held the jar above her head, releasing the flakes to the wind.

Letting go.

She could feel his fingers whispering along her jawline, gently cupping her chin and turning her head around. He was looking at her with his whole heart, and warmth spread out in her chest.

He continued to caress her face; brushing unruly tresses of hair away, grazing her cheeks, her ice-cold nose, her lips.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered in awe, and she inched closer to him, leaning into his private space.

"And so are you," was her reply, the last thing she said before his lips found hers.

xxx

Once upon a time, the earth was inhabited by human beings with four arms, four legs, and a single head made of two faces. They were children of the moon, and they were strong, so strong that it scared the ancient Gods. One day, Zeus split the humans in halves, weakening them by separation. They were miserable, forever incomplete.

It is said that when two belonging halves find each other, there is an unspoken understanding of one another and the feeling of, once again, being complete.

Complete is what she felt, sitting in the circle of his arms, his kisses stirring and healing at the same time. Whole is what he was, finding sea salt and her very own essence on her lips.

Together, they stumbled out of time, fell out of place.

How often had they shared kisses? Kisses born out of passion, born out of despair. Fleeting kisses, lingering kisses.

For Mulder and Scully, kissing each other was nothing new. Except that it was.

And when they finally broke apart, panting heavily, something had happened. Wrapping his arms around her shivering form, he pulled her close to his chest, and she burrowed her face in the crook of his neck. Breathing. Feeling. Being.

"Dana."

His voice was a whisper, lost in the rolling thunder of the ocean, but she heard it nonetheless, catching its longing, its softness, its promise.

"You know what, Mulder? Keep showing up."

"You can count on it. Just don't walk away."

She shook her head, and her hair tickled his nose.

"Promise."

Letting go of her, he gave her a gentle smile before turning to his bag, rummaging around.

"There's one more thing."

"A Polaroid camera? That thing is ancient, where did you even get it?"

"The word you're looking for is 'retro', Scully. Come on."

Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close, holding the camera up in the air.

"Say 'cheese'."

She laughed, feeling frozen and toasty at the same time.

The camera whirred, producing an instant photo. Mulder took it carefully, putting it into the wooden box.

"For your box. No regrets anymore, just good memories."

"Now that's mushy, Mulder."

Catching her with his arms, he placed a lingering kiss on her forehead.

"And you love it. Now come on, I'm frozen. Five more minutes and I'm gonna sing 'Let it go' for realsies."

She got up on stiff legs, shaking sand from her pants.

"Too much TV, Mulder, way too much."

"Yeah, I know, I need to get a life." He winked at her, reaching out his hand. "I'm working on it."

xxx

Later that day, in the solitude of her bedroom, sea salt still on her skin, Scully opened the box to take a look at the photo. Despite being not older than a few hours, it already possessed the yellowish vintage charm of Polaroid shots.

It was a fleeting moment in time captured for eternity. The wind playing with her hair, her cheeks blushed. She was beaming into the camera, radiating joy and life and beauty.

Next to her, Mulder had his arm around her and his head was slightly turned; it was the face of a man in love. And he was looking at her.

To be continued...


	6. Fifty-four

6\. Fifty-four

Dana Scully awoke at dawn. Through half-closed blinds, she could see a dusky February sky dotted with pink clouds. It was Friday, but not just any Friday. Today was her birthday, more precisely, her 54th birthday.

Scully remembered birthdays long gone. Childhood fun, parties surrounded by friends and family. Sparklers in a crowded bar and private celebrations with Mulder. She thought about last year's birthday. Turning fifty-three had been a gloomy thing. It had been the first birthday without her mother and Mulder, despite their rekindled friend- and partnership, had been too far away to provide real comfort. Back then, it had been a long time since a man had touched her intimately and she'd felt withered and lonely.

She sighed, stretching her limbs, taking stock of her feelings.

Things were different.

First off, her body was alive. There were kisses, caresses, sex even. She'd had sex again, and it had been fantastic. Take that, fifty-four!

Not just her body had come out of hibernation, her soul had as well. There were feelings; youthful feelings, mighty feelings. Feelings she hadn't experienced in a long time.

She wasn't alone anymore.

Scully thought about their last case. Mud Lick, Kentucky. Two weeks later, Skinner's words were still echoing in her mind, powerful words of trust and faith.

 _You two came along and you taught me not to hide from it, but to have the guts to shine a light directly into the darkest corners. I'd make the same decision every single damn time._

Choices, it came back to choices.

She remembered standing in that corrugated-iron shack, Mulder's white undershirt, the smell of gasoline. There had been blood stains on his right side, and she'd approached him cautiously...

xxx

"Mulder, let me see."

His hands caught her wrists, before she could touch his shirt, stilling her.

"Scully, that's not my blood."

She closed her eyes in relief, but she needed more than his words. Freeing her hands, she reached for the hem of his shirt anew, carefully lifting the fabric. Her trained eyes found nothing but perfect Mulder skin. Still, she needed even more than that. Gently, oh so gently, her hand palmed his side until she could feel his body heat beneath her fingers. No trace of blood. Just proof of life.

The weight of tons was lifted from her chest.

"I see," she finally murmured, lowering his shirt.

Once more, Mulder caught her hands with his. Stepping closer to her, he bowed his head until their brows touched.

"I'm fine," he whispered. "But tanks for worrying."

She smiled, and for a brief moment, the tip of his nose nudged hers in a very private gesture.

They'd survived another day...

xxx

Her cell phone chose that moment to ring. Outstretching her arm, Scully fished it from her nightstand.

"Yeah?"

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Scul-ly, happy birthday to you."

"Mulder, it's six am."

Nonetheless, his imperfect serenade had tugged at her heart-strings, making her smile.

"You're awake, aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm calling because I don't wanna get shot. I'm standing in front of your door, about to come in. So, cover up, Scully. Or... don't."

"You- _what_?"

He'd already ended the call, but from across the hallway, she could hear his key turning in the lock, followed by the deep timbre of his voice shortly after.

"Knock, knock?"

She propped herself up on her elbows, awaiting his invasion of her bedroom. Soon enough, the familiar silhouette manifested in the door frame. Raising her eyebrows, she regarded him with an amused gleam in her eyes.

"Cover up or don't?"

He lifted his shoulders rather innocently.

"I don't wanna assume anything. Nice shirt by the way. I thought I'd lost it."

She managed not to blush and held his gaze.

"Well, you didn't. Why again are you here?"

"It's your birthday, Scully. Stay put, I'm gonna make breakfast for you."

The nonchalant nature of his reply rendered her speechless, and he disappeared in the general direction of her kitchen. Preparing breakfast for her as if it was a normal thing. As if they were sharing a life. As if...

As if he was caring about her.

And he was, she realized, caring about her.

She could hear him in the kitchen, the sound of cutlery and drawers being opened. The sound of another person in the morning. Suddenly, the sheets against her skin were even softer, the blanket even warmer and the sky outside her window even pinker.

Then the scent of coffee and waffles was dancing in the air, arousing her nose. Inhaling deeply, she hummed in joyful anticipation, closing her eyes.

That's how he found her, fifty-four years old and every incarnation of sensuality.

Swallowing hard, Mulder approached her with a tray in his hand.

"Hey..."

His voice was even raspier than usual, and she opened heavy-lidded eyes.

"Breakfast's ready."

He sat down next to her on the mattress – careful not to spill the coffee – and leaned in, gently grazing her cheek with his lips.

"Happy birthday, Dana," he whispered, nuzzling her hair with his nose, and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of waffles, coffee and Mulder in the morning.

Lifting her hand, she cupped his face.

"Thank you, Mulder. That's really sweet."

Genuine pride adorned his face, and he turned his head to place a gentle kiss in her palm.

"So..."

"Please stay. Have breakfast with me."

The words left her mouth in a hurry, and he didn't even try to hide his pleasure.

"If that's what you want."

She nodded, already scooting over. He pointed at the door.

"I'm gonna grab another cup of coffee."

Her eyes followed him before moving back to the tray in her lap. He'd even put a birthday card next to her breakfast assortment. There was a dog on the cover wearing a party hat, and her face lit up. It was such a Mulder card. He was the master of strange presents and ugly cards. Scully remembered "The Superstars of the Super Bowl" and an Apollo 11 keychain. His footsteps tore her out of her musings, and then the mattress shifted under his weight anew, as he got down beside her.

She pointed at the card.

"Dog years?"

He cracked a smile.

"You remember?"

"Of course I do. Mulder, thank you."

"You're welcome. Now dig in, I ordered those waffles myself."

"Wow, you've put so much effort into this."

"Hey, don't tease me. I had to get up around five."

She nodded while trying her coffee.

"How do you cope without your beauty rest?"

Lowering his head, he bit off a huge piece from the waffle in her hand, surprising her with his agility. She squealed in surprise.

"How do you cope without your breakfast?"

"Hey, that's _my_ waffle."

"You win some, you lose some. They're delicious, by the way. You mind if I-"

Before he could finish his sentence, she'd stuffed the remaining waffle into her mouth, looking at him with empty hands and full cheeks. He laughed out and couldn't stop laughing while she was chewing and swallowing.

"Well, you have a bad habit of stealing my food," she stated dryly.

His laughter subsided to chuckles, and he took a sip of coffee.

They ate in silence for a while, enjoying the breakfast and each other's company. Eventually, she pushed away her plate, falling back into the pillows. Mulder made short work of her leftovers and finished his coffee. He'd never been in her new bedroom before, and the opportunity to look around was too good to be missed. Finally, his eyes turned to her.

"Seriously, your house rocks, Scully. You really needed a change of surroundings when you left me, huh?"

She shrugged.

"I needed to get away from everything that reminded me of you," was her honest reply, and he didn't admit it, but it stung a little bit.

"Now however," she continued, "I catch myself missing your mess every once in a while."

He rewarded her with a lopsided grin.

"It's not 'mess', Scully, it's 'style'. A very masculine style."

She poked his ribs with her forefinger.

"You know, you can go to a shop to buy furniture, you don't have to find it on the streets."

He gave her an insulted glance, lightly smacking her finger.

"You're getting away with that one only because it's your birthday."

"Lucky me," she joked.

"Do you have any plans for today?"

She shook her head.

"You know me, Mulder. Birthdays are not my thing."

"Let's have dinner tonight. What do you think – just you and me and some sushi robots? I've found that place on Vero and it looks interesting. We don't even have to talk. Hell, you could probably go there in your PJs."

"Sushi robots?" She laughed out. "That sounds weird enough. Sure, let's do it."

Outstretching her hand once more, she caught his, tugging him down beside her. He raised his arm, and she moved closer until she was wrapped into his warmth. A content hum left her throat and he could feel the vibration close to his chest. Her legs snaked out of the blanket, tangling with his. His jeans were rough against her bare skin, and she burrowed into him even further, enjoying the sensual contrast.

"Just for a moment," she murmured, and his palm drew slow circles on her back.

"For as many moments as you want," came his soft reply. "This is nice."

"Yes..."

He placed a kiss on top of her head.

"You cut your hair."

"Hmm."

"Do I get any points for noticing it?"

She smiled against his chest.

"You like it?"

He shrugged.

"I think you're beautiful no matter what."

"A very wise answer."

"Do _you_ like it, Scully?"

"Hmm. Ask me again in a few days."

She shifted in his arms, reminding him effectively that she was only wearing a shirt – more precisely, his shirt. Familiar tingles started in his veins.

"Uh, Scully? You're not wearing that much."

"Well, you said 'cover up or don't'."

"So... this is 'don't' then?"

His hand on her back drew a bolder circle, brushing her buttocks, palming the back of her thigh. Ever so slowly, he hooked her leg around his hips, turning around until he was nestled in the valley of her thighs.

The pressure of him right there made her sigh.

His tongue darted out, tracing her auricle, and she sighed again. Her nipples hardened and she could feel them strain against the fabric of her shirt. Could he feel it as well?

He stilled above her, and she opened her eyes, finding his gaze on her, warm and trusty. Her heart clenched at the sight of him so intimately close to her.

"Mulder..."

"Shh..."

His hand crept under her shirt – _his_ shirt – and she tried to hold his gaze, as her body answered his touch; as he found her oversensitive breasts, kneading with just the right amount of pressure.

He knew her so well...

She bit her lip, blinking once, twice, her pupils dilating.

In the vee of her legs, she could feel him hardening, and her lower body throbbed almost painfully.

A moan – his or hers?

His hand left her breast, and she furrowed her brow in protest, but he was already lifting her shirt and then his mouth was on her; sucking, licking, tasting. Her fists clenched the sheets, and the blood whooshed in her ears.

She was wet, so wet. With just a few touches and caresses, he'd reduced her to a tangle of limbs and needs. It was almost embarrassing, except that it wasn't. For this was Mulder, and he would never ever embarrass her. With him, she was safe.

Raising her hips, she pressed her throbbing center against his hard length. He groaned, as he got her clue. With a loud smack, he let go of her breast, staring at her, open-mouthed and panting. Lifting her hand to his face, she traced his full lips, and he sucked two fingers right into his mouth; his mouth so wet and warm. Desire shot through her body like a lightning bolt.

Oh God, she needed more. Please. _Now_.

Tugging at her hand, she got her fingers back, guiding them right down to where he was pressed against her. Her hand slipped under the waistband of her panties, and his eyes grew wider.

"No," he growled, as he watched like mesmerized how she sunk her finger - the finger that was still damp from his mouth - into her own body.

"Yes," she purred, moving in and out.

"No, that's _my_ job."

His hand caught hers, and she whined in protest, as he pulled it back to his mouth, licking her very own essence from her finger. Finally, and for the very first time that morning, his lips crushed onto hers.

She could taste coffee and waffles and herself in his kiss, and she whimpered because it was so sweet and not enough at the same time.

His hands busied themselves between their bodies, and even before he broke the kiss, she could feel him tugging her panties aside; could feel the tip of him touching her entrance. Nodding fiercely, Scully, opened her legs even further, inviting him in.

It was an invitation he didn't need, because he was already there, pushing agonizingly slowly into her hot body.

"Yes," she murmured against his lips, "yes, yes, yes."

Then he was inside of her; finally again. Filling her, stretching her, making her whole.

"My job," he repeated, and she couldn't find it in her heart to argue with him. "You're mine. _Mine_."

Taking his head into her hands, she guided him down to her neck, and he opened his mouth to suck her exposed skin between his teeth, marking her.

She inhaled a shuddered breath. Possessive Mulder – oh, how did she love him!

With their clothes only pushed aside as far as necessary, they had limited room to move, but somehow that made it even more arousing. Sweetly, oh so sweetly he started to thrust, sliding in and out just a few inches.

Heat was unfurling low in her belly.

"Mulder..."

His name was a melody, was a rhythm, was a river. And on that river, they were flowing, riding the waves together, completely and utterly at each other's mercy.

She lost if first, that last thread of control, and right when she started to shiver in his arms, he followed her.

They didn't drown.

But only barely.

To be continued...


	7. Contact

7\. Contact

For all of his life, Fox Mulder had wanted to make contact.

Contact with a bigger entity, a foreign species, another kind of intelligence. Contact with the truth.

Contact with other people... not so much.

There's only ever been one human being he truly needed. He could hide forever with her, contently shutting the world out. In hindsight, that might have been part of their problem. Today, however, he wanted it all.

Smiling faces. People talking with full mouths. A hand pouring coffee into his cup.

Human contact.

It was breakfast time, and the old-fashioned diner was buzzing with people. He wanted to absorb their presence and rinse out the Black Mirror-ish nightmare from last night.

Next to him, Scully lolled lazily in her chair, looking as tired as he felt.

Contact – he was craving it.

xxx

 _What am I even doing here?_

Her brain screamed loudly at her hands for picking up the cell phone, but old habits die hard. How many hours had she spent staring into that tiny display which held the knowledge of the world and funny cat videos on top?

Connecting, when in truth every kind of connection left her untouched and lonesome.

Casting a glance at the man beside her, she put her phone down, surprising him and herself by covering his hand with hers.

It was warm and so very familiar.

He gave her a genuine smile, before following her lead and laying the phone aside as well. His thumb brushed her fingers, as if to confirm the connection.

"You wanna get out of here?"

She yawned, covering her mouth with her free hand.

"I'd love to, but my house has blown up."

He grimaced.

"We should probably check on it."

"Serves it right, it tried to kill me."

He chuckled. She yawned once more.

"No, seriously. I think I need to sleep before facing that mess. What about your place."

He wiggled his head.

"You remember that scene from 'The Birds' when Tippi Hedren turns around and the whole playground is full of ravens?"

"I think it's crows."

His mouth curved up into a very private smile.

"You're so much prettier than Google. But that bird scene? That was my living-room last night. Just with cute twinkling drones. Not so cute when they're trying to kill you."

"They're probably gone by now. You're scared?"

"Me? Noooo."

The O of his mouth evolved into a full-fledged pout.

"However..."

"Mulder... hotel?"

She yawned another time, and he joined in.

"Hotel. Come on, let's get some shut-eye."

He didn't let go of her hand, as they stepped out of the diner into the dazzling morning sun.

xxx

The hotel had seen better days, but there was no video surveillance in the lobby and they were allowed to pay cash.

Scully watched Mulder asking for a room, one room as in singular, and didn't even pretend it wasn't what she wanted. Her mind wandered back to her birthday morning and their encounter in her bed. Had it only been twenty-four hours ago?

A pang of sadness rose in her chest, as she thought about her house, her furniture, her keepsakes, but the moment was fleeting, as her eyes turned back to the man in her company.

The outcome could have been worse, way worse.

He chose that moment to tilt his head, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Almost done here. They even found toothbrushes for us."

She was beyond tired and could only muster a nod.

Eventually, they got their room. It was old-fashioned and dust grains were dancing in the bright light that shone in through the windows. Averting his eyes, he crossed the space in four big steps, closing the brown curtains. Shutting the world out.

For now, this room was their cocoon, and nothing was allowed to intrude, not even sunlight.

Without bothering to hide, she simply started shedding her clothes, leaving them as a pile on the floor. He watched her, unashamedly, registering her beauty, noticing her bruises.

Traces of getting blown up and shot at.

Closing the distance to her, he carefully touched her side, the familiar milky-white of her skin purplish discolored.

"Are you OK?"

She nodded.

"Nothing but hematomas."

"Good."

"What about you?"

He grunted and, following her lead, pulled his shirt over his head.

"Scully, I'm too old for this shit."

Her gaze roamed over his skin, finding nothing graver than bruises and scratches. Then he was naked in front of her; for there was nowhere to hide and nothing left to pretend.

"Shower or sleep?"

"Sleep, just sleep."

He nodded, taking her small hand into his bigger one once more.

The bed was only queen size, but Mulder and Scully didn't care. Today, they didn't need much space. Under the covers, they found solace and comfort, nothing but skin separating them. Sleep came almost instantly, but even then, he didn't let go of her hand.

Not once.

xxx

The house smelled like bonfire nights, only colder.

A few hours of sleep and a shower had revived her spirits, and it was mid-afternoon, when Scully finally made her way to Bethesda. Mulder had wanted to tag along, but she'd sent him home. This was something she needed to face alone.

She was shivering, as she took in the ruins that used to be her living-room. Not much could be saved here, but fortunately, the fire hadn't spread to the rest of the house. Bedroom, bathroom and kitchen were undamaged – aside from the stench.

 _Undamaged_ , she mused, were they really?

She used to feel safe here, but once again, safety had only been an erroneous belief.

Looking around one more time, she shrugged. It was a nice house, but she'd never really loved it. She'd bought it soon after leaving the home she'd shared with Mulder. While she'd never had a rebound guy, she'd taken a rebound house.

Scully was relieved to find most of her personal items intact. The wooden box Mulder had given her was a little scorched, but its precious content was unharmed. She looked at the Polaroid photo, her hair disheveled by the wind, his face full of warmth and devotion. Her birthday card was there as well. She opened it, her eyes tracing his well-known handwriting.

 _Scully,_

 _you know I suck a cards, but this is from the heart._

 _Yours,_

 _Mulder_

She needed to tell him that he didn't suck at it that much.

Her fingers touched the last item in the box. It was a printout from a video surveillance camera, showing herself talking to her child.

Closing her eyes, Scully took a deep breath, searching in the clouds of her mind for the familiar feeling that indicated her son's presence. She found it soon, as if he'd been waiting for her. William as a baby, his sweet scent, his little mouth on her breast – all those memories that used to hurt her, she summoned them and tried to send them his way; tried to send warmth and love and reassurance.

 _I'm here, thinking of you._

 _I'm here, listening._

 _Be safe..._

Her cell chose that moment to interrupt, and she blinked in confusion, as the connection was torn apart.

"Yes?"

"I'm calling you from a drone-free house. And I've already cleaned the mess the raccoons have made."

"Raccoons?"

"The drones didn't close the front door after chasing me out."

She couldn't help smiling.

"They didn't?"

"What about you? How bad is it?"

"Actually, not that bad. But it might take a few weeks until I can move back in. My insurance company can provide me with a temporary apartment."

"What? Uh... I mean... well."

"What is it?"

Even though he wasn't there, Scully could practically see disappointment written all over his face.

"I just assumed you'd come home..."

" _Home_..."

"Well, not home. But... you know what I mean."

Her voice turned to a whisper.

"Is that what you want, Mulder?"

She could almost hear his heartbeat, for it was beating heavily in his throat.

" _Dana_... You know what I want."

Inhaling a shuddered breath, she closed her eyes, standing at a crossroads once again, pondering the risks. A lifetime of following him – where had it led her? Where could it possibly lead her now?

"Well, the temporary apartment is quite close to Forowa Sushi, so expect me in half an hour. But, Mulder?"

He was grinning, grinning like a fool.

"Yes?"

"We're going to Ikea."

Still grinning.

"Anything you want."

xxx

I can see them.

He's pushing a shopping cart full of plates, pillows and candles. She's bouncing on a bed.

Is that an Ikea store?

I shake my head, but have to smile nonetheless.

They are strange people.

I can see her often, but I like it most when she's with him.

She always feels warm, but together, they're like sunshine on my skin.

To be continued...


	8. Nothing Lasts Forever

8\. Nothing Lasts Forever

Satin.

A drawer full of satin.

Standing in the middle of his bedroom, Mulder couldn't avert his eyes. The sight of her clothes next to his used to be so familiar, used to be so normal. After she'd moved out, the emptiness of her shelves and drawers had haunted him for a while.

Closing his eyes, he sniffed the air. Everything was freshly laundered, but he could still guess a whiff of smoke underneath the detergent. And if he inhaled really deeply, nostrils flared, he could smell it. Vanilla and flowers and Scully.

She was back.

It was makeshift, the way her pajamas were stuffed into the drawer, and he knew that she wasn't back for good. Deep in his heart however...

Soft footsteps alerted him to her presence, and he turned around just in time to see her entering the room, an assortment of colorful pillows in her arms. He watched that frown on her face, as she looked from the bed to the pillows in her arms and back. Finally, the tip of her tongue darted out, moistening her lip, and she tilted her head, looking up at him.

"Where am I sleeping tonight?"

He lifted his arm, pointing at the bed.

"Here."

"And you?"

"Well... I can sleep on the couch if that's what you want. But..."

His voice trailed off.

Her gaze wandered back to the bed, and in her mind's eye, she could see herself over the years. Changing the sheets. Slipping under the covers. Reading before falling asleep. Waking up next to him, arms and legs intimately entangled.

She gnawed her lip.

"I want to share a bed with you, Mulder. But... I don't know if I can just slip back into our former life."

He crossed the distance to her in two heartbeats, enveloping her and the pillows in his strong arms.

"You don't have to. This is temporary. Let's just, I don't know, have a good time and reevaluate the rest when your house is, well, less holey. I'm not pretending that I don't want to sleep here with you, but, honestly, I'm just glad you're here."

She relaxed in his arms, and he caressed her back, rocking her gently. He placed a soft kiss on top of her head, enjoying the silk of her hair underneath his lips.

Still burrowed in his hug, she rolled her eyes.

"Who am I even kidding," she finally murmured. "I know where I'm sleeping and I know where you'll be sleeping."

He smiled.

"Just don't hog the blankets," she added, and she could feel chuckles vibrating in his chest.

Letting go of her, he raised her chin with his knuckles, placing a tender kiss on her lips. And another one, just because he was allowed to.

"Thanks for staying with me."

Her universe shifted and clicked into place.

Home. She was home.

xxx

Years of living alone had left an imprint on both of them.

She was neat, and he wasn't.

He was used to the ambient noise of his TV; she preferred music.

She had rituals before going to bed – a bath, scented candles, a peeling, a prayer. He crashed on his couch most nights.

He liked to sleep in, she was a morning person.

However, what should have been a contradiction, had always worked for Mulder and Scully.

Tentative, so very tentative, they found their way back to a common language.

Evenings on the couch. Shared meals. Together, they repainted the bedroom. Alien-gray, he joked. Taupe, she corrected. She didn't spot a single pair of underpants on the floor. He bought flowers and put them on the kitchen table; she tried to feel his temperature upon noticing them.

Affection was filling their house, manifesting in hugs, caresses, smiles. He enjoyed the sight of her toothbrush next to his and the scent of her shower gel lingering in the bathroom; she couldn't get enough of his presence. Soon, very soon, caresses and chaste kisses weren't enough anymore. One night, she reached for him, born out of instinct, and she was welcomed home in the most intimate way. It was natural, the way their bodies came back together, and the morning after, not a trace of awkwardness kept lingering in the sheets.

He bought a new personal massager for her to replace the lost one. It was a gift wrapped into a bow and a smirk, and then he spent a whole weekend proving to her that she didn't need that damn thing in the first place.

To live: Make one's home in a particular place or with a particular person.

That's what they did.

And between morning and evening, they went to work together. Shining a light into the darkest corners, annoying local cops, finding creatures and probabilities between black and white.

In the midst of spring, they went to New York.

She fell four stories and his heart almost stopped.

They unearthed a cult and blood and eternal youth.

However, it always came back to one question: Which price are you willing to pay?

They'd talked about regrets, put them in a box, burned them, but in the end, Mulder still couldn't shake it off; the feeling that, in regard to her, the costs had been too high.

He sat in the pews, watching her glowing in the light of votive candles. His heart was so full for her, so utterly full. The sudden need to be close to her was overwhelming, and he got up, joining her, watching how she tried to light a candle.

The flame flickered and died. Scully scrunched her nose.

"That must be a sign. I'm all out of miracles. Turn back. Give up."

He reached for the matchstick.

"I will relight your candle and extend your prayers through mine."

"What prayers?"

"I can't tell you. They won't come true."

Turning to the man next to her, she gave him a teasing smile.

"It's a prayer candle, Mulder, not a birthday cake. Prayers aren't meant to be a sentiment. It's a conversation. You can do it like a meditation, or if your needs exceed your grasp, you can ask God to act on your behalf. But you don't believe in God. So you'd essentially be talking to yourself."

He might not believe in God, but he believed in her and told her so. It was so genuine, this sentiment, almost innocent, and her heart overflowed for him.

"If A equals B, and B equals C, therefore, A equals C. Reason and faith in harmony. Isn't that why we're so good together?"

Yin and Yang. Two halves of a bigger entity. Or maybe, maybe it was just love. Plain and simple. Love and trust. Suddenly, Scully found herself faced with a truth she could no longer deny.

"Are we together?"

There was only one answer, but all those regrets had numbed his lips. Before he could utter a single syllable, she continued: "You know, I believed I could protect our son, and I failed. I believed that we could live together, and I fled. I gave up on that, too."

Mulder could no longer contain his contrition. His voice got even softer.

"If only you'd fled earlier. You know how many times I've envisioned that scenario, where you left that basement office before I even needed glasses? You'd have your health, your dog, your sister. You'd be Kersh's boss at the FBI, and be married to some brain surgeon, and have a bunch of kids that you wouldn't have to give up."

Regrets. There wasn't a box big enough to hold them.

She regarded him in surprise, remembering the glasses he'd worn when they'd first met, deciding that this wasn't the point here.

"Mulder, I don't begrudge you any of those things. That's not what I was talking about."

"Well, what are you talking about, Scully? Because I don't know if any God is listening, but I am standing right here, and I am listening. Right beside you. I'm all ears. That's my choice."

She inhaled deeply, focusing solely on him.

"Mulder, I'm not a victim. And that's _my_ choice. Please don't belittle me by treating me like one. You have to stop pitying me. You have to stop feeling guilty."

Reaching out to her, he took her hands into his.

"Can you, Scully? Stop feeling guilty?"

She shrugged, giving him a sincere grin.

"I'm willing to try. That's not my four-year-old self looking for a miracle. That's my leap of faith forward. And I'd like to do it together."

His heart grew impossibly larger, and he caressed her hands with his thumbs.

"You said you need what I have. Scully, you've got _me_. Let me bear north for you."

That leap of faith... she took it.

"I love you. I've always loved you, Mulder."

There... the words he'd thought he'd never hear again, spoken in her softest voice. Tears were pooling in his eyes, and he almost crushed her hands with the force of his response.

"And I love you. Love you so much. Always have, always will. You're the reason why everything makes sense, Scully, the only one on this whole damn planet who makes everything worthwhile. I need you, I want you."

 _You keep me honest. You make me a whole person._

She beamed at him, her heart written all over her face, and he couldn't turn his eyes from her.

Nothing lasts forever, they say. But they couldn't be more wrong, for there are things out of our grasp, things way beyond finitude. Love... a sentiment so intangible, yet so strong. A feeling that changes more than just the path of two people, a feeling that can, indeed, last. Forever and then some.

Eventually, he dared to whisper: "I'm hazy on the rules. Can I kiss you in a church?"

She chuckled.

"Unmarried? Save me a seat in hell."

"Hmm... I don't know about you, but witnessing a case of spontaneous combustion is hot enough for me. Wanna go?"

She nodded eagerly, and he barely left her time to cross herself before taking her hand once more, dragging her rather unceremoniously to the exit. The doors were dark and heavy, and she inhaled deeply as he pushed them open, as the scent of candles and frankincense was replaced by spring blossoms and rain.

Then she was whirled around, and he pulled her to his chest, cradling her both fiercely and with infinite tenderness. Her heart was running a mile a minute, as she sought his lips, finally sealing their promise with a kiss.

He tasted like sunflower seeds and home, like past and future. His lips parted for her, letting her in, and she could feel a groan rumbling deep in his throat. He kissed her like he used to kiss her, like nobody else had ever kissed her, and she didn't even care that this was a tautology.

She could feel his fingers in her hair, on her cheek, around her nape. They were roaming restlessly, as if needing affirmation that the moment was real.

Standing on her tiptoes, she tried to get even closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, effortlessly lifting her a few inches from the ground.

Dana Scully wasn't a weak person, but somehow he always managed to make her feel precious and protected.

Finally, after minutes or hours, he broke the kiss, panting heavily.

"Scully, this is it. You and me. For good. You get that, right?"

Lowering his head, he touched her brow with his, and she raised her hand, cupping his cheek.

"Don't worry, I'm done leaving you."

His smile was brighter than sunlight itself.

"Mulder, take me home."

He nudged her nose with his ever so softly.

"Home as in…?"

"Wherever you are, Mulder. Home is wherever you are."

"We don't have to go back to the little house, Scully. We can, I don't know, live at your place, at least eventually, or move somewhere else entirely. I don't really care, as long you're there with me."

Clutching his lapels, she lifted herself onto her tiptoes once more, nuzzling his neck with her lips.

"Hmm… I don't know about you, but right now I _really_ want to go back to the little house, Mulder."

To emphasize her words, she pressed her hips flush to his, and his eyes flew open.

"Dana Katherine Scully, in front of a church?!"

Rolling her eyes, she slipped her hands into his pockets, and he gasped. She laughed out, retrieving the car keys.

"I'm done waiting, I'm gonna take _you_ home, Mulder."

And they left, laughing and bickering, leaving behind a candle that was burning for them; that was burning for their past and their future.

For those they'd lost along the road; for those they'd found.

For the baby they'd given up.

For the young men they'd recently met.

It was burning for hope, that candle, for love and family and closure.

For gratitude as well.

For they didn't want to erase the past, rather build a new life upon it.

A future full of promises and possibilities.

They weren't young anymore, but they were still young enough.

They'd never said "yes" to each other in front of a priest.

He'd never put a ring on her finger before.

She'd never called someone "husband", had never been someone's wife.

He'd never kissed a snowflake off her nose after bulding a snowman.

They'd never bought a summer house together, a house with a spare bedroom for the young man who was about to visit.

For that day was coming.

She knew it, knew in her heart and mind. He knew it as well, believing her like he's always believed her.

He'd promised to bear north for her, but the truth was… he was just a compass showing a direction.

The direction: it was her.

For she was his pole and the center of the universe; had been for the longest time.

Red hair, blue eyes, fair skin. 5ft 2 ¼. Sharp mind, vulnerable heart.

Mulder wanted to spend the rest of his life pointing in her direction.

It was that simple.

The end.

 _I'm not ready to say goodbye, but I feel that this story has told itself. I'm trying to recover from "My Struggle IV", try to unsee most of it. I hate the way our beloved characters were treated, I don't think a new pregnancy should be used to "fix everything", I'm sad that we didn't get to see a single kiss. In my mind, they kissed a lot._

 _Just like 2002, I find myself mourning the loss of the X-Files. I'm incredibly grateful that we got two more seasons so many years later, grateful for lines like "This is how I like my Mulder" and "Put a dimmer on that afterglow". And I'm grateful for writing this story, I had so much fun with it. I've read my very first fanfic - MSR of course - at the age of sixteen. This was before the interwebs and twitter and ffnet. I got it on a floppy disc from a pen pal. 20 years later, I'm here, writing this story while new episodes are airing. Forever grateful.  
_

 _What's next? I don't know. But I know that Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are always out there, shining a light, loving each other fiercely and tenderly._

 _I've been in love with them for 25 years. They're my constant._

 _Ann._

 _PS: The snowflake kiss is for you, Lenka. Thanks for sharing your visions with me._


End file.
